Drag-On:We All Can Get It On Lyrics

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(Whisper) Strike the match

Flame-on motherfuckers

My gun, I aim lowerMy words is a flame throwerWatch me end y'all with somthing,That'll make your skin crawlI'm only 8 tall, ok y'all? But I lay down lawAnd I lay down y'all, so y'all better praise (a) the lordNo room to breath. Knowin' shhAnd the shit I spit be red and orangeAnd y'all going to have to call it in like bomb threats'Cause I'm fire but, when I wet y'all your gonna be drenchedLaid up with ten, 'cause when I pull it outI pull in shouts like BLOW!Damn that shit was loud! See the crowd?They all seek cover when they see that black rubberBecause this cat here, got no sisters or no brothersIt was one aloneCovered with shellack ready to die blackLets talk about guns, and how y'all don't bust noneThease niggas here, y'all doing lest busting lot of duckingMaybe a lot of fucking, cause all y'all bust is nutsJust give me room, nobody move, or y'all gonna hear the boom

If y'all can get it on, then we can get it onWe all can get it on... (x3)FLAME-ON MUTHERFUCKERS (x2)

Ya niggaz packing gats and stonesFronting on your man clonesYa niggaz missed the ride, cause this nigga make ya moan'Cause when I pull out it's like AIDS, I make sure its full blownAnd before the grief (kiss kiss), kiss him on both cheeksLet him think there's peaceAnd give him somthing to rememberCorpse stiff, hands cold, and body missing till DecemberSneakers offClose casket, blew his cheek offBy the way be careful who you speak of'Cause I by the wall in the back, guaranteed and all thatWhile y'all in all blackWhen I leave the place, drop the reef, in his moms lapMotherfuckers...Soon as y'all think your beef is sweetI'm gonna lay in the streetsAnd let y'all niggaz throw quarters on meCan you spare change for your life?Change for what? That's when I pop upWith somthing long, and put somthing in his ass like a thongI don't know what you thoughtI'm gonna do you like I do a NewportAnd step on kid, smoking him down till his head gone

I'm straigh housing shitYeah, ya niggas is ballersBut I'm the nigga bouncin' itIf Ruff Ryders is announcing itYa know we get down for it, want every ounce of itI don't care if you sellin it, this is musicHow we sound with it?Don't forget, we bust rhymes for itSkip town for it, get under the ground for itSo nigga, don't ignore itUnless your ass is deafThis is gonna be your last breathYour last S. and S. checkWith your hands crossed over your chestI don't give a fuckWhat ever I gotta take care, I get it doneIf its money, I owe nobodyExcept a few hot onesAnd if your 18 and under, this here's your last testAnd I'm gonna teach you in the classWith the past tense, lil bastardsC is for class or for casket. So get your books upAnd if your doe is low, that C better mean for Cook UpDon't tell me that you shook upYou know I keep my stacks crossedSo that you gotta look up, and maybe we can hook upBut you know what? Then you woke upSome body smoked you smoke upYou know what that meanYou broke, and you 'bout to get broke up